


Dirty Hotel Room Sex

by kiyarasabel



Series: Life Goes On [6]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 18:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9455507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyarasabel/pseuds/kiyarasabel
Summary: Glanni's trying to annoy his neice in the next room by having loud sex. Íþró's just happy to get right to the fucking.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Technically this won't happen in the timeline until about chapter five of Rikki Han Er Bestur, but these assholes have been noisy in my head.

“Shut up and fuck me, Íþró.” Glanni insisted, running his hands against the elf's pants. The hero shrugged and let himself be shoved back onto the bed.

“You're pushier than usual.” He smirked, moustache quirking with amusement. Glanni snarled, wishing that he could tear the offending facial hair away.

“I haven't been laid in too long and I don't have the patience to play nicely with you today.” He didn't need to know that it had been exactly as long as since the last they'd seen each other. He didn't want to mislead the elf into thinking that he'd been waiting for him, he simply hadn't found any marks worth his time.

Íþróttaálfurinn chuckled as he unlatched his chest plate. “We both know that playing nice isn't in your nature.”

Glanni scowled and tore his shirt off to avoid a response. Íþró grabbed his hips and ground against them playfully. Glanni moaned loudly and shuddered, but Íþró knew better.

“It seems like you just want to be noisy.” He teased.

“We're always noisy.” Glanni dismissed, working the hero's belt free.

“Yes but usually you make me earn it. Faking from the beginning isn't like you.” Íþró observed lazily, running his hands up the long torso.

“Who says I'm not always faking.” Glanni challenged.

“I know the difference.” Íþró insisted.

“Or so you think.” Glanni scoffed.

“Glanni, I’m not the one who gets off at the sound of your voice.” The elf chuckled as Glanni backed off to drop his pants.

“And here I thought you liked it when I talk about how big you are, how it feels when you hit me just right.” The criminal stood purring, posing coquettishly in his nudity.

“Not as much as you love hearing it.” Íþró returned, stroking his member free.

Glanni was quiet for once, eyes on the prize and licking his lips. He straddled the elf and started to stroke them together, eyes half lidded as he worked them to size. Íþró relaxed and enjoyed the view. Loathe though he'd be to admit it, but he'd missed the cat burglar. He couldn't even pretend that he was unhappy to be getting involved with him again. He'd sworn it had been the last time, had even managed to convince himself of it for a time, but soon enough it had crept up on him, a melancholy longing.

He wasn't sure what kept drawing him back. Glanni wasn't open or honest, untrustworthy to the core. He was a hedonist, out only for himself and damn anyone who got in his way. And yet at times like this, when he was sure no one could see it, Íþró recognized the same separation. They were two of a kind, lone wanderers looking for the next job before they disappeared again into the sunset.

It must be that which made their trysts so passionate, the knowledge that the relief would be fleeting and only the lingering of regret would stay with them. They joined only for these brief intervals and then wondered if ever they would meet again. Glanni seemed to tire of stroking, scooting down to take Íþró into his mouth and giving him a slick coating of saliva, before bringing himself back up to take the elf's member inside him.

Íþró groaned, the friction more intense than usual, Glanni's spit leaving the contact much drier than usual. The criminal let out a long guttural moan as he took the length gradually. Once fully seated he leaned forward to catch Íþró's lips in a harsh kiss.

He broke away to start moving and the elf enjoyed the view. He'd wondered at first why he'd been so attracted to the lean man, if Íþróttaálfurinn had been asked about what he considered to be his type he would have said a short plump cottage wife. Glanni was the opposite of that, long and lanky with hardly any meat on his angular frame. When he had realized what Glanni resembled most it should have turned him off. He had the look of a High Court elf, especially with his condescending sneer and poise, worse, he practically screamed Unseelie to Íþróttaálfurinn's instincts.

But as he looked up at the lithe form gracefully working his shaft, taking what he wanted selfishly, demanding that the elf be prostrated before his pleasure. Íþróttaálfurinn probably should take such actions as insult, but instead it felt like he was worshipping at a pagan altar. This connection between them felt like something older and deeper than the shallow lust they pretended to have.

Íþró was panting lightly as Glanni's rhythm began to falter, so he grabbed the slender man's hips and began to move them. Glanni was lost in his pleasure, that place where he'd lost the capacity to be anything but genuine and it was there that Íþró liked him best. The dreamy open look in that fine boned face, his mouth begging. There was a world of unsaid emotions and Íþró let himself get lost there.

Íþró hit him in a way other partners didn't, perhaps couldn't. Even when the elf was desperate to take his own pleasure Glanni would feel his insides burning with well stoked desire. Even now as he lost control the hands on his hips guided them together at a pace that drove Glanni mad. He knew that he would come first and there was no way to slow himself to retake control. He had to surrender to Íþró, every time and it was easier with practice, comforting even. He felt himself tightening in expectation and Íþró adjusted again, slowly milking out Glanni's finish until he lost himself.

Íþró changed his pace again as the warmth of Glanni's release splattered across his chest. It wasn't just that he liked the additional layer of vulnerability that he uncovered while Glanni was hypersensitive or even the way his body shuddered with every thrust. It was the look of smug defiance Glanni gave him in those moments. A want that went beyond their lust, possessive and somehow right.

Glanni always loved the last moments of their couplings, Íþróttaálfurinn's intensity hit a new level, deep and primal. The low growls they shared, the way his dick hardened and plumped in readiness, still teasing his prostate on every beat. Most of all Glanni knew when Íþró’s entire focus narrowed down to only him, and he knew that wherever else the elf spent his time, he belonged to him in that moment. The feeling of Íþró’s shuddering heat filling him, painting his insides white was more than pleasure, it was a prize. He pulled away with a deep kiss, purring as he felt the slickness of the elf's seed run down his balls.


End file.
